The Dark Elf
by MorfindelthePhysicist
Summary: An elf woman from Mirkwood moves to Rivendell to escape the growing Shadow. Despite her initial misgivings and longing for home, she finds friendship, romance, and adventure in the Valley of the Last Homely House.
1. Snowswirl

Snow drifted down from the sky. The grey clouds overhead had come from beyond the Misty Mountains and now hung low over the valley like a ceiling, seemingly reluctant to go anywhere. The wind was still; the world was silent.

And then night fell, and with that the gusts began. Sweeping down the forested hillsides and down the river, the wind blew the snow in wild dances around the pine trees. Swirls of flakes whipped through the evergreen branches, whistling sharply. A mysterious magic was at play in Imladris.

A woman fought her way determinedly through the icy blasts, which were swiftly becoming stronger. Down the slopes she came, wrapping her heavy cloak as firmly around her as she could. But she was failing. Her bare fingers, exposed since she had lost her gloves, had just lost all feeling and even through her shoes her feet were threatening to do the same. To make matters worse, the temperature was dropping quickly to even further extremities. She had an hour left in her, at best, if the cold grew much colder.

Her stumbling footsteps struck wood. Not the wood of a tree, but a board joined to other boards to form... A bridge! The bridge over the river she had been following for the last few hours. She looked up and saw the glow of two lights set on either side of the structure, showing her its width. Perhaps she was almost there.

Hope enkindled the last of her willpower and she began to cross the bridge. The snow in the air was by now so thick that she could not see the two torches at the end of the bridge until she was within three feet of them. She clenched her hands around the cloth of her cloak, or tried to as best she could without sensation to guide her movements.

The next fifteen minutes felt like hours to the freezing woman. At the mercy of the elements, unable to see her way, she could only guess at her direction and hope she was not walking in circles. When she came upon a solitary lamp she hoped with all her heart that it was not one of the bridge lights again; she couldn't see a second one anywhere, though, so she kept walking. Little realizing that her footsteps were being carefully guided by the sloping of the ground itself, she was amazed to find another light ten feet later, and then another. Time started to run at its accustomed pace again and she trudged on.

Soon many flames began to appear before her, some high in the air, others closer to the ground, but all spread apart like window lights. She suddenly realized that is what they were, and that the snow was less thick here, the wind probably blocked by something. As a matter of fact she was between two wings of the building, approaching the main entrance from which they spread. The wind had less and less effect as she neared the circular staircase and the doors at its far edge. The snow was falling gently now. Without the howling of the storm in her ears, she could hear sounds of life from the great house: laughter, clink of dishes, singing.

She began to ascend the stairs, taking the left hand side of the circle. In the center of the staircase grew a tall tree with spreading branches; as she passed, lights on each limb came to life, guiding her steps along the stone walkway. Clutching the guardrail, she finally set foot on the landing before the carven doors and stumbled towards the entrance.

As the strange woman had crossed the courtyard, watchful eyes had followed her halting progress from an upper window. As always, the Master of the Last Homely House was periodically leaving his work to glance out into the night, concerned lest a traveler come unnoticed or unheard by the Doorkeeper. When his gaze fell on the lonely figure, he rang for his servants and told them to await a visitor. Then he watched her move slowly towards the house.

And thus it was that before she had quite reached the doors she found them opening toward her, the warm glow of a fire spilling out around the tall figure of the Doorkeeper.

"Welcome to Imladris," he said smiling. He held out his hand to her. She must have looked like she needed support.

Gratefully she took his hand as well as she could with her stiff fingers. He must have realized that she couldn't hold on very well and grasped her hand firmly, in case it should slip away by accident.

"Thank you. It is long since anyone welcomed me anywhere," she whispered. The cold must have taken her voice along with her body heat.

"The storm is not exactly hospitable, I agree," the doorkeeper replied kindly, with a twinkle in his eye. She allowed him to lead her gently into the house and towards a roaring fire. He took her wet, frozen cloak and replaced it with a warm woollen blanket. The change from cold to warmth was wonderful but her body still shook like a dry leaf in autumn. The Doorkeeper sat her down in a high backed chair far enough away from the fire to allow for a gradual thawing of her stiff figure.

"Rest here as long as you need to," he told her. kneeling on one knee in front of her. He then took both of her hands in his and turned his head away for a moment. She realized that a boy was standing by a door, seemingly waiting for something. "Lindir!" commanded the Doorkeeper. "We need warm water. As quickly as you can get it." The child nodded obediently and hurried off.

He looked back at her and held her gaze. "How long have your hands been gloveless?" he inquired calmly and quietly.

She wasn't sure. "Maybe a few hours? I kept them as protected as I could, but I haven't been able to feel them for a while." Her mind was becoming as numb as her skin.

"If it has been that long then we must be careful. The best ways to unthaw frozen hands are warm water or contact with warm skin." He let go of her hands briefly and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. Taking the cold fingers again, he laid them on his forearms. "Tell me when you feel anything in your hands, anything at all."

She nodded silently. Her trembling had all but ceased, yet she still felt cold. Her exhaustion was starting to catch up to her as well.

"How do you feel?" he asked her."Tired? Cold?"

Again she nodded. Sharp pains had begun to shoot through her fingers. "My hands hurt," she murmured, wincing.

"Good," said the other elf, rotating his forearms outward so that her hands rested on warm skin again. "How are your feet? Can you feel them?"

"Barely," came the faint reply.

Just then Lindir returned with tepid water and two shallow basins. He brought them over to the chair. "Here, Father," he said, looking at the unknown woman.

"Thank you," said the Doorkeeper, placing her hands on her knees and reaching for her shoes. He unlaced the small boots within a few seconds and worked them carefully off her feet. After that came the stockings. Soon her bare feet rested in one of the basins of water while her hands occupied the other.

Lindir's father lifted himself to his feet and looked down at her. "Stay there until your hands and feet feel normal again. I will be right back," he said gently. He had a perpetual twinkle in his eye, even when he wasn't smiling.

"You are so kind," she said, finally able to speak in a voice close to normal.

At that he did smile. "Rest," he advised again, and, taking his little boy's hand, left the room.

True to his word, he did come right back: a mere three minutes passed between his departure and his return. But she never saw him re-enter the room, for she was fast asleep. Her weariness from a long journey in unfavorable weather had finally claimed her.


	2. Sunrise

**Author's Note: I'm very sorry I took so long to update... Unfortunately I am currently very busy. I will try to be quicker with the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**-Mor**

The next morning the snow had stopped. Everything was covered with a layer of untouched whiteness, and the newly risen sun set the world a-sparkling with its golden beams. Lindir breathed on the windowpane as he stared out at the fresh snowfall, entranced. His father, standing by the door of the boy's room, laughed interiorly. Lindir had seen snow before, but each time was new and exciting, it seemed. The mind of a child never grows tired of the magic of snow.

He came to stand behind his son and laid his hands on Lindir's shoulders. The boy jumped, startled. "Papa! You snuck up on me!" he giggled, tilting his head backward to look at the tall elf behind him.

His father bent and kissed his forehead, eyes smiling. "Do you like the snow, little one? It's very pretty, isn't it?"

Lindir returned his gaze to the outside world. "It's all sparkly! Can we go out and play in it? Please?" begged the child excitedly.

"Oh, Lindir." He lifted the boy into his arms and they looked out the window together. "It's too cold, far too cold for little elflings like yourself."

Lindir's eyes grew larger and pleading."But Papa, I'm big! You said I was your big strong warrior when I fell down and my knee was bleeding. Can't big strong warriors go out when it's cold?"

"And so you are my warrior, but even big people aren't going outside today. The air is too cold even for grownups," he explained gently.

The boy's lower lip wobbled slightly and he placed his little hand on his father's cheek. Big grey eyes looked into the older elf's and spoke volumes of wordless longing. This little one knew how to melt his father's heart.

The efforts of Lindir were in vain, however. "I am sorry, child. You would freeze. Do you remember that lady who came in last night? She was out in the snow too long and her fingers and toes almost fell off." A bit of exaggeration, but the suggestion was not that farfetched.

Lindir gasped. "Really, Papa? Why?" he queried, looking slightly horrified.

"Because if we don't keep warm, our bodies can't stay together. That's why I can't let you play outside today. Your little hands would be too cold." Simplistic, but Lindir was not exactly ready for an intense biological explanation. Wiggling back around to stare out the window once more, the boy sighed.

The tall elf leaned towards the window so that his face almost touched the glass. Forming his lips into an o-shape, he blew gently, creating a fog on the pane, and used his left forefinger to draw a snowflake.

Lindir smiled suddenly."Can I do that too?"

"Just breathe on the glass," replied his father. Lindir copied the actions of a moment ago, bringing his small mouth within half an inch of the window pane and exhaling hard. Little fingers traced out something resembling the word Lindir.

"Papa, Papa! I wrote my name!" He was very proud of himself.

"Lin...-dir," the other read deliberately. "Why, that is excellent, little one! You will soon be a scholar as well as a strong warrior."

Lindir's smile grew at the praise from his father, whom he regarded as the most knowledgeable person in the world. Master Elrond knew a lot, but Lindir was confident that his Papa knew more.

"Not too soon, I hope! My little son cannot grow up just yet." The elf and his child turned towards the new voice.

In the doorway stood a lovely woman, her grey eyes smiling. Lindir scrambled down his father's body and ran towards her. "Mama! It snowed last night! Look!" he chattered excitedly. His mother scooped up the elfling and steadied him on her hip, kissing his soft cheek.

"Yes, darling, it's beautiful," she laughed. The boy returned her kiss, his arms wrappedtightly around her neck.

The father, forsaken by his son, crossed the room and embraced his little family tightly. "And how are you this cold morning, my Culurien?," he asked his wife, kissing her.

"Very well, my dearest," she answered."I came to tell you that Lord Elladan wants you."

"This early?" He shook his head."What on earth has happened now?" Kissing his wife again, he winked at Lindir and stepped out into the hallway.

Culurien lowered Lindir to his feet and took his hand."Come with mama," she told him, "We must go to see how our guest, the lady from last night's storm, is faring. We do not want her to be scared, waking up in a strange place, now."

Lindir nodded, understanding the rationale of the last sentence. He knew perfectly well how he would react in that situation.

The woman in question had woken an hour before to find herself in an extremely comfortable bed. Wine-red blankets covered the snow-white sheets, and her head rested on a mound of soft pillows. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, where carvings of scenes from all four seasons seemed to come to life as she gazed.

Sitting up, she took in more of her surroundings. The room gave the impression neither of great size nor of smallness, not cozily cramped or spaciously open but somewhere in between. And it was certainly cozy. A fireplace, adorned with more carvings, held a good-sized blaze, which again was neither small nor large. Thick carpet matching the bed covers awaited her bare feet when she slipped them out from under the sheets and rested them on the floor. Everything about the room bespoke warmth and comfort.

She looked down and found she was wearing a white flannel nightgown. When she glanced to her right, she saw the dress she had been wearing last night, now clean and fresh, draped over a wooden chair with red cushions. Beside it on the same chair was another gown of shimmering deep blue fabric, cut from an elegantly simple design. She touched the second dress gingerly with her fingertips, as if it would break. It wasn't that she had never had anything like it before. Rather, it seemed straight out of a memory of days and nights past.

Everything was laid out on a dresser by the fireplace for her to wash up and get ready, so she did just that. After much deliberation, she decided to wear the blue dress so as not to appear ungrateful, although her hosts had graciously allowed for the possibility that she would be more comfortable in her own clothes.

As she finished closing the clasps in the back of the dress, she heard a soft tap at the door. Crossing the room, she grasped the smooth doorknob and opened the door, drawing a deep breath in anticipation.

A dark-haired woman stood in the hall, a kindly smile on her lips. Holding tightly to the newcomer's hand was the little boy who had helped the Doorkeeper last night. She couldn't remember his name. She couldn't remember much of anything from last night except the brightness of the fire and the Doorkeeper's face.

"Good morning," she said automatically,opening the door farther to let them in.

"Did you sleep well?" asked her visitor politely, eyes taking in her appearance.

"Yes. Yes I did," she answered, glancing down at the child. His eyes were wide and curious, but he smiled at her.

"My name is Culurien. I serve in the household of Elrond," the other said in a friendly tone. "You met my husband Curudin last night. He watches the main door."

"Oh yes! He was very kind," she returned, remembering."I must have fallen asleep down by the fire."

"We brought you in here. I hope that you are comfortable." Culurien was running her gaze over everything in the room, as if making sure nothing had been forgotten.

"I have never slept so soundly in my life," she assured her."I could not wish for better accommodation."

"Are you hungry?" inquired Culurien. "I can take you to the kitchens. Most have already eaten, but the cooks will be glad to make something for you."

She was starving. "That would be wonderful. I have not eaten in almost a day."

The other smiled."In that case, follow me."


	3. Late Breakfast

Culurien turned back toward the door and led the way toward a flight of stairs curving left. The little boy glanced back at the unknown woman as if making sure that she was coming and their eyes met. He was studying her intently when he reached the steps and had to turn his head to see where he was going. This child was not timid.

As the three descended the steps into a long open hallway, she found her eyes drawn upward to the ceiling. She gasped. The hall was open! She could see the blue sky right above her!

The little boy looked back for a moment and gave her a knowing smile."It's glass," he whispered conspiratorially.

She raised her eyes again to study the apparent gap between the tips of the walls, realizing that no downward draft of cold air was making its way towards her. The child was right... The roof was there, but it could not be seen.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and kept walking straight down the hall. All around them were women going about their respective duties, most of which seemed to be household chores. Some had flour on their aprons, some carried trays back down to the kitchens, and still others were transporting cleaning supplies. As they moved down the corridor, curious gazes were cast their way. It would seem everyone in Rivendell knew everyone else, if strangers were so easily noticed. And considering the size of the place, that was surprising.

The kitchens were both wide and high-ceilinged. An unexpected quiet pervaded the airy rooms; only two women were at work preparing some dough or other for the ovens. They greeted Culurien and her little boy cheerfully.

"This is a guest of Master Elrond," Culurien explained to the bakers."She had a long night and missed breakfast. Would it be too much trouble for you to prepare something for her?"

The women laughed merrily."Of course not. It will not take long at all," replied one, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron and reaching for a cupboard behind her. The other continued to work on the bread.

"Thank you so much," the aforesaid guest answered gratefully.

Lindir let go of his mother's hand and dragged a tall stool over to the counter where the first cook was preparing the requested breakfast. "May I watch?" he asked hopefully.

The woman smiled at him."As long as you are not in my way!" she told him.

He became very serious and wide-eyed. "I promise not to get in the way," he reassured her solemnly. She patted his head and turned back to her work as the elfling watched intently from his perch.

Pulling up two similar stools, Culurien beckoned to her companion and took a seat. The other followed her example, sitting at the long counter and waiting quietly.

"When did you arrive in Imladris?" asked the second cook.

"Oh, it was last night," came the reply."I'm not sure what time I reached the house."

"Last night? In that terrible storm?" She sounded very concerned.

"Yes."

"Goodness! You must have had a difficult journey. I have not seen such a storm for over two yen - in Imladris, at least. Outside the valley is another matter, of course."

"Indeed," affirmed Culurien. "My husband and I were on our way to visit Lothlorien about twelve years ago, and, despite the fact that it was April, blizzards followed us nearly to the borders of the Golden Wood! It was a very uncomfortable journey." She looked lovingly at Lindir, who was deeply absorbed in the preparation of whatever the first cook was making. "At least we had no small child to worry about at the time."

Lindir's person of interest nodded. "Life becomes infinitely more complicated when the children come," she smiled.

A toothsome smell began to emanate from the stove as some sort of meat sizzled in the pan. "Lindir, you'll have to back your chair up a little so that you do not get splattered by the hot grease," she warned the elfling. He hopped down and moved the stool a few inches before climbing up once more.

"Mama, I'm hungry again," said Lindir.

The women laughed. "Wait till midday, child," answered his mother. "It is nearly dinnertime."

Lindir sighed and looked longingly at what the cook was preparing. Culurien turned to the visitor. "Do not feel sorry for him. He had a big breakfast."

The other woman smiled. "No fear," she replied. "I know all about children."

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "How would you describe life in Imladris?" she asked. "I was coming here to stay when my party was caught in the storm yesterday."

"Peaceful," said the first cook.

"Busy," said the second cook.

"In a good way," added Culurien hastily. "Also I would say pleasant."

The stranger considered these three statements. "What happens when someone like me moves here? What could I do here?"

The first cook laughed. They were quite merry, these Imladris women. "That depends on what you can do," she told her. "What was your chief means of occupation in your previous home?"

"I helped take care of the house where my family lived, but I mainly studied," was the response. "I love books, and I enjoy philosophy very much."

"Well, there are many and well-stocked libraries here," the first cook said thoughtfully. "I am sure there is something you could do once you are settled."

"I would not concern myself about it just yet, if I were in your position," said Culurien reassuringly. "I can find you a place. You can rely on me to arrange your affairs satisfactorily."

"Thank you. That is very kind of you," responded the other with a smile. "I would greatly appreciate that. Just tell me if you find anything."

"I will do that," said Culurien with a smile.

The delicious smell was making her stomach growl and a thought occurred to her. "Does all of Rivendell eat every meal communally?" she asked.

"Oh, no," said the second cook, who was busy shaping the dough she had made into loaves. "Each family makes its own food in its private apartments. Imladris is a small town in one way and a large house in another. But everyone has the option of dining in the Great Hall, as long as they tell us beforehand."

The other cook nodded in agreement. "We must know how much food to make!"

"Are you two the only cooks?"

"Far from it!" The first cook laughed again. "We would be extremely busy, to say the least. There are ten of us altogether. And sometimes we have extra help."

"Do you have families?" was the next question.

"I do not, but Miriel does," said the first cook. "I live with my parents and my sisters. And you know Culurien has a family."

"Oh yes," smiled the woman in question. "My husband and I have two children, Lindir and his elder sister Celebwen."

An elf stuck his head around the slightly open door, interrupting the conversation. "Have any of you seen Lord Glorfindel recently?" His voice sounded strained. "No one seems to have any idea of his whereabouts, and we have been searching for nearly an hour."

"Who wants to find him?" asked the first cook curiously.

"The Sons of Elrond," sighed the messenger. "And I strongly suspect that he has no desire to be found. I don't know why, so do not ask me," he added, forestalling the obvious next question. The first cook shut her mouth, which she had opened for the purpose of inquiring just that.

"If he does not want you to find him, then Their Lordships have a long and probably fruitless search ahead of them," stated Culurien, raising her eyebrows.

The messenger nodded and sighed again. "Trust me, it has been long already. If you see him, please try to get word to the Twins," he said, and disappeared out into the hallway.

The first cook was rummaging in a cupboard. "Wait!" she cried, hurrying to the doorway. The elf turned back. "To lighten the tedium," she said, with a twinkle in her eye, and tossed him a round seed-cake. He caught it, winked, and continued on his way toward the staircase.

When she reentered the kitchen her companions could see that a rosy colour had sprung suddenly into her cheeks. She quickly returned to her work at the stove and the other three women shared conspiratorial smile.

"Who was that young man, then, Mir-los?" inquired Culurien, not trying very hard to keep the smile out of her voice.

"His name is Caranfalas, and he is Lord Elrohir's valet. Well, his position includes more than just being a valet... He runs many errands for Lord Elrohir. He likes the position; he says it is never dull, which I can very well believe. He's about my age," she trailed off, sensing the amusement of the group behind her, and turned around. Her blush deepened when she saw the smiles of the other women. "We grew up together!"

"Does he come over to your parents' home often?" asked Miriel. "I thought I was acquainted with all of your friends. You have kept Caranfalas a secret! "

"I did not mean to!" protested the other. "And yes, he is an old friend of my family."

"How long has he been flirting with you?" Miriel prodded her further.

Mir-los' ears turned very pink at that and the laughter of her friends finally escaped into the open. "I'm sorry, Mir-los," said Miriel. "You are not required to answer that impertinent question."

The mirth at Mir-los's expense eventually died away and there were a few moments of silence. Mir-los, having finished her task, set a delicious-looking breakfast in front of the visitor, who said enthusiastically, "Thank you very much!" and began to eat. Lindir pushed his stool back to its former position and climbed onto his mother's lap. Mir-los rejoined the other cook and began again to knead the very large amounts of dough.

"This is too sticky," said Mir-los after a moment. "Should I bring more flour?"

"That would be exceedingly helpful," Miriel told her, so she wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room. The flour was kept in a tall closet-like cupboard in the far wall.

No sooner had she opened the door than she uttered a startled exclamation, which was swiftly muffled. The others looked over and Culurien stood up quickly, open-mouthed. The visitor forgot about her breakfast. Miriel stopped kneading.

A tall elf with golden hair stood next to the cupboard, in which he must have been standing. One of his hands was clamped firmly over Mir-los' mouth while the index finger of his other was pressed against his own lips in a gesture for silence. He looked around at the group. As they stood in stunned silence, he released the woman, walked over to the door of the room, and closed it quietly.

"Please remain calm," he said, looking quite unruffled himself. "And, for the love of peace, please do not run off to the Sons of Elrond crying that you have found their lost advisor. I shall remove myself from your presence and you may forget that you saw me."

"But... Lord Glorfindel!" stammered Culurien. "What in Middle Earth is going on?"

The elf lord patted her shoulder. "Nothing for you to be concerned about," he tried to reassure her.

"They seem to be conducting quite the search for you, my lord," put in Mir-los, who had recovered quickly from her shock.

"I think even my husband is helping," said Culurien, remembering suddenly that Lord Elladan had wanted to see him earlier that morning.

Lord Glorfindel was remarkably calm for a man being hunted by the Sons of Elrond. "Like I said, forget I was ever here. I will not trouble you any longer." And he slipped out into a side kitchen. Presumably after that he left the kitchens altogether.

"I am very confused," said Culurien, holding Lindir's hand tightly.

The others nodded in agreement. The situation was utterly unfathomable. The one who was a stranger to the valley wondered in her mind whether or not this was the right place for her to settle after all, no matter what her father believed: the people here were very strange. Kind, no doubt, but strange.


	4. Lords of the Valley

_**a/n: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry this is short... I am working on a couple of longer chapters which should be finished soon. Darn school work! ;) Enjoy!**_

_**-Mor**_

There was a knock on the door of Lord Elrond's study: a quick, hard, and very distinctive tap. The occupant of the room looked up from the letter he was writing. "Come," he said, raising his voice slightly.

The door swung open and Glorfindel entered, closing it behind him. He met Elrond's eye and frowned. "Master Elrond, are you aware of what is going on?" he asked quietly.

The lord of Rivendell remained calm, nodding silently. The other folded his arms and waited, hoping that some further explanation would be forthcoming.

Finally Elrond spoke. "I will take care of it," he assured his advisor. "Perhaps you would like to stay here while my sons tire themselves with useless searches?"

Glorfindel smiled suddenly. "Master Elrond, engaging in subterfuge," he teased. "This is a rare occurrence..."

"Not as rare as you might think, my friend," answered Elrond, with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye.

"By the way, I saw the girl who arrived out of the storm," said the other, his tone more matter-of-fact. "Have you spoken with her?"

Master Elrond shook his head. "I have not. I was hoping to have the chance this evening. "

"I wonder if she began the journey alone, as she ended it," said Glorfindel even more gravely. "Perhaps we should find out if rescue parties are needed."

"Have no fear," came the swift assurance. "Not five minutes before you arrived I sent someone down for that very purpose."

"Does the messenger know where to look?" wondered the advisor aloud. "She is presently in the kitchens, eating a late breakfast."

Elrond looked at his friend. "And how did you come by that piece of information?" he asked, curiously. He could always sense an amusing story.

Glorfindel shifted and smiled again. "Well... You see..." he began. He had done nothing wrong, but he had a sinking feeling that Elrond would dig up this memory at some future moment and tell everyone about it. "I was hiding in the kitchen," he stalled, hoping that would satisfy Elrond.

He was wrong. "Where, exactly? The kitchens are fairly easy to search," pointed out the other elf.

"The flour cupboard," sighed Glorfindel.

Elrond began to laugh quietly. "Why did you leave such an original hiding place?" he asked.

"The cooks found me."

More laughter would have followed this statement, but someone tapped on the door. Both men froze.

The master of Rivendell pointed to a short cabinet beside his desk. Glorfindel gave him the widened eyes and the raised brows, as if to question his sanity, but Elrond only gestured again towards the small doors. Shaking his head, the Noldo bent and crawled into the wooden cabinet, careful to closer the doors behind him.

He could fit pretty comfortably inside, although he knew he would develop cramps if he stayed in this position for very long. Elrond's voice came through the wood, muffled slightly. "Enter!"

"Father," said whoever it was. Clearly one of the twins. "Has Elladan come in here recently? I cannot find him anywhere."

Glorfindel resisted the urge to shift his weight.

Elrond spoke. "I have not seen him since breakfast. Perhaps you should ask Glorfindel; he might know."

Glorfindel also resisted the temptation to chuckle. That Elrond was quite something.

There was a pause of several seconds before Elrohir answered. "Ah, yes, Father. That would be most wise. I shall try to locate Glorfindel with that hope in mind." Consummate actors were all the _peredhil_.

The temptation to chuckle was now much stronger than the urge to shift his weight, but Glorfindel manfully overcame both.

"I wish you luck! And when you find your brother, tell him I need to speak with him about his dog," said Elrond. "If Elladan wants to keep that puppy he must train and not spoil it, as he did the last one."

The elf trapped in the cabinet suddenly realized that he had not quite latched the doors. If he moved, not only would he make the wood creak but he was also likely to tumble out onto the floor in front of the person whom he was endeavoring to escape. Glorfindel became even more still than he had been, if that were possible.

Elrohir probably bowed at this point. "Many thanks. I will give him your message, Father."

The younger elf's footsteps disappeared through the door, which shut quietly. Glorfindel counted to twelve slowly to give Elrohir time to get farther down the hallway, then he swung open the cabinet and stretched his long legs. He slid out all the way and fluidly stood up. Elrond looked at him, his eyes full of laughter. The situation had been rather amusing, he granted.

"Elladan has another dog?" he asked. "What happened to the other one?"

"I am not sure," said Elrond, picking up his work again. "Perhaps you should ask Elladan; he might know."

This time Glorfindel was at liberty to chuckle at his friend's self-paraphrase. "Nicely done, by the way. I could feel his reaction."

Elrond smiled. "Thank you."


	5. Family Dinner

Lindir pointed to his right. "The family of Master Elrond lives up those stairs," he told his protégé. He was showing her around Imladris so that his mother could get back to her work. Despite his youth, the child was quite familiar with most parts of the Last Homely House and could tell her much about what went on where. The two, hand in hand, had covered about half of the house and were now looking up the final staircase.

She took a step forward, but Lindir did not budge. He had stopped quite definitely a few feet from the lowest step. With a questioning glance back at him, she asked, "What is it? Are none to go up there?"

Lindir shook his head no. "Besides, it frightens me. I have never been on that floor." He unconsciously tugged on her hand, pulling back to the safety of the large atrium from which they had just come.

Looking back at the top of the stairs, she turned away reluctantly. As the two began to head toward the doorway, they heard another descending the curved staircase behind them; when they turned to see the newcomer, Lindir breathed in suddenly and bowed. A dark-haired elf strode past quickly. He looked rather irritated but nodded politely the the child and the woman before disappearing into the doorway.

"Who was that?" she asked, curious.

"Lord Elrohir," Lindir told her, staring after the tall figure.

"Are the Sons of Elrond not twins? How could you tell?"

Lindir shrugged. "I just can. We should get back... It is nearly time for dinner!" He smiled up at her and she returned the smile.

"We would not want to miss dinner, would we?" she laughed.

The boy shook his head vigorously and pulled her in the direction of the food.

Down long hallways they hurried, and up stairs and across landings. At last Lindir stopped in front of a tall door with a round brass knob and opened it. "Mama! We are home!"

Culurien was setting a large pot on the table when the child and his friend entered the kitchen. "Good evening!" she greeted them. "How was your tour of Imladris?"

"It was lovely," replied the other woman, glancing around at the small apartment. It had a homey feel, with its bright lights, warm colors, and tasteful adornments. The table was neatly set and covered with a white cloth; the plates and the silverware gleamed in the light of three candles in the center. There were five chairs.

Another woman was standing at the stove, stirring something in a shallow pan. She turned her head and said, "Lindir! You forgot to shut the door." Her face resembled Culurien's greatly.

"This is my daughter Celebwen," Culurien introduced her to the visitor. "Celebwen, this is the guest of Master Elrond of whom I told you earlier."

Celebwen smiled and nodded shyly. "Welcome to Rivendell," she offered.

"Thank you," returned the other, smiling back.

Lindir had dropped her hand and run to close the door, but someone else had already taken care of it. "Papa!" he cried out in delight as the Doorkeeper caught him up in his arms.

"How is my little helper?" asked Curudin, ruffling his son's hair.

The boy giggled and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "I am doing well," he answered. "How was your day?"

The Doorkeeper exchanged a glance with his wife. "Busy," was all he said about it. "I am ready for a hot dinner!"

"Well, the food is ready!" Celebwen told him as she brought out the gravy, which she had been stirring. She placed the dish on the table and the family took their places.

One chair was empty and Culurien gestured towards it. "Have a seat," she invited the visitor.

"Thank you." The place was next to Lindir and across from Celebwen.

Before they sat down, Curudin bowed his head and prayed, "May Eru, Maker of all, bless these gifts which He has given us. May Elbereth, lady of the stars, look down on us, and may the Valar protect us." Then he took his seat and the rest followed his example.

Dinner turned out to be chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes covered with gravy. "My dear, this smells delicious," said Curudin earnestly, helping his son take a serving of potatoes.

"Well, I cannot take all the credit," said Culurien, "Celebwen made the gravy."

The Doorkeeper laughed out loud. "Her culinary skills are advancing!" he said, winking at his daughter.

Celebwen flushed at the implication that she had barely helped with the dinner. "I also made the cake for dessert," she muttered, reaching for the platter of chicken.

Curudin poked her in the arm. "I am teasing you," he told her, trying to get her to laugh. These efforts produced a reproachful smile aimed his way and he poked her again before turning his attention to the food before him.

"We heard there was some search going on for Lord Glorfindel," said Culurien to her husband. "Was that what Elladan wanted you for? "

Curudin nodded. "I still am not sure why the Twins wanted to find him. I am even less sure of the reason Glorfindel did not want to be found."

"Did you ever find him?" the visitor asked, her eyes fixed on the Doorkeeper.

He shook his head. "We did not," he answered. "It was a very strange day."

"I showed her all around today!" Lindir piped up suddenly, bouncing slightly in his chair.

Curudin smiled at him. "Did you indeed, my little messenger?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "And we saw Lord Elrohir, and he looked grumpy," he added.

His father smiled tightly. "I imagine he did," was his comment. He looked at Culurien. "How did you hear of the search?"

The visitor wondered for a brief moment how Culurien was going to respond. There was, after all, the fact the Lord Glorfindel had been hiding in the very room where they had been.

"Elrohir's valet came to the kitchens looking for Glorfindel," Culurien replied calmly. "Incidentally, Mir-los was quite glad that he did."

Curudin smiled. "Does she like him?" he asked.

His wife nodded. "Very much."

"I think the feeling is mutual," put in Celebwen. "He always talks about her."

The visitor looked at her. "You know him?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, I somehow manage to meet him often in the library when I take my work there to find quiet," answered the other, giving her younger brother a pointed look. "The library is fairly close to Elrohir's rooms and he probably has to go there frequently for his master."

"Elrohir is quite the scholar," affirmed Curudin. "Always has been, and probably always will be."

"Indeed," affirmed Celebwen.

"And Lord Elladan?" asked the visitor curiously. "Is he an intellectual as well?"

The Doorkeeper laughed. "He prefers to ride and spar," he answered. "I will say that he likes to read, but he is more active than intellectual." He shook his head, smiling to himself. "I laugh because Erestor and I were teasing him the other day about reading only the histories of women who were famed for their beauty. We were exaggerating of course, but we managed to rattle him a bit.

There was a ripple of laughter around the table. Lindir accidentally dropped his spoon and scrambled down from his seat to retrieve it. Culurien watched him to make sure he rinsed off the dirty utensil before putting it back into his food.

After a short silence, the Doorkeeper spoke again. "The storm has returned: snow is blowing hard against the doors once more." He looked at their guest. "I hope no one is outside in the cold tonight," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

She nodded. "It would not be pleasant for them."

"Papa said your fingers almost fell off!" said Lindir suddenly, fixing his big eyes on her. "Did they really almost fall off?"

"Oh yes," she replied, smiling at his innocence. "They were quite frozen. Do not worry, you and your Papa saved me! I do not know what I would have done without you to thaw me out."

Lindir was still wide-eyed, but he seemed pleased that he had helped save her fingers from falling off. He dug his fork back into his potatoes cheerfully.

Culurien spoke up. "Our guest is planning to settle in Imladris permanently," she told her husband. "Do you know of any work she could find, work of a more intellectual nature than household chores?"

The Doorkeeper thought for a moment, eyes distant. "There are perhaps some things you could help the librarians with," he answered. "I hesitate to characterize the work as 'librarian' because it is much more than shelving books: copying, illustration, collecting and compiling, etc. Would such things appeal to you?"

She considered this. "These things do sound very good to me, as work goes," she said. "To whom would I apply?"

"I can arrange an appointment for you with the right people," said Curudin. "If you like, I can speak with Lord Erestor tomorrow."

"Yes, I would like that," she replied.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Curudin stood and answered. "Yes?"

"Is Saelandil of Greenwood here?" asked the messenger politely.

Curudin looked at the visitor, who sat up suddenly. "Yes, I am," she said.

"Lord Elrond would like to speak with you in his sitting room whenever you have time this evening," he told her.

She nodded. "I shall come as soon as I can," she replied.

The messenger bowed. "I am sorry to have disturbed your dinner, Curudin," he said.

The Doorkeeper smiled. "No apology necessary," he assured the other. "Have a good evening!"

"Many thanks," said the messenger, bowing once more before he left. Curudin shut the door and rejoined the group at the table.

The visitor shifted in her chair. "I suppose I should have told you my name," she said quietly, "especially after you have shown me such hospitality."

Lindir had not caught what the messenger had said. "What is your name?" he asked curiously.

"Saelandil," she told him. "I lived in Greenwood."

"Before you leave we should have the cake," said Culurien, leaving her seat to get the dessert. Celebwen stood as well and began to collect the dinner plates.

"What kind is it?" asked Lindir excitedly. A small pile of corn lingered, forgotten, on his plate.

His sister pointed to the remaining food. "Finish up and I will tell you," she said firmly.

The child sighed and poked at the corn reluctantly. When he saw his mother beginning to cut the cake, however, he shoved the rest into his mouth and set his fork down on his plate. "I have finished!" he announced, lest there be any confusion about the fact.

"Take your plate up to the counter," prompted Curudin in a whisper. Lindir jumped down and grasped the dish with both hands. He set it down next to the stack of plates and waited eagerly for cake at his mother's elbow.

"Lindir!" said his father. "Come and wait at the table so you will not be in Mama's way."

"Perhaps Lindir could show you the way to Master Elrond's office," suggested Celebwen, bringing slices of cake to Curudin and Saelandil.

"Oh no!" cried Lindir. "I have never been up there! It is too frightening for me."

His sister looked reprovingly at him. "You will go everywhere else in the valley and you cannot go near Elrond's chambers?"

He shook his head and looked desperately at his father. "Please can someone come with me?" he pleaded.

Curudin pinched his cheek. "Do not fear, my little one," he assured the boy. "Celebwen will go with you this time. She can show you that there is nothing to fear up in those corridors."

The girl in question sighed. "Oh very well, if Lindir is that terrified," she said. "Actually I left something in one of the library rooms and can take this opportunity to retrieve it."

Lindir sighed as well, a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, looking up at his sister gratefully. Then he turned all his attention to the cake in front of him.


	6. Mischief Maker

Elrohir passed like a shadow through the darkened hallway as he headed for his rooms. No windows lightened the gloom of the corridor, and the elf could no longer hear the wind howling outside. The blizzard had started up again; snow was once more driving against the Last Homely House. Elrohir's mood matched the ferocity of the storm. Glorfindel had managed to evade the Twins all day, and Elrond had told his sons to drop the search. The elf had a sneaking suspicion that his father was on Glorfindel's side.

Voices echoed from around the corner, a woman's and a child's. He was straining to identify the speakers, when a hand clamped itself over his mouth and someone pulled him into a corner. In the darkness he and the unknown person were invisible.

"Hush," whispered someone in his ear. The voice was very like his own. Elladan was his kidnapper.

"What - " he tried to say, although it sounded more like mmpph through his brother's hand.

"Hush!" Elladan released him. "Wait."

Elrohir frowned, but the other was concentrating on his eavesdropping.

"Now, Lindir, I am going to the library quickly to fetch a book I left there this afternoon," one of the voices was saying. "You go to the end of the hallway there and wait for me."

The child spoke. "But I am frightened, Celebwen! Please do not leave me."

The Doorkeeper's children. He had seen Lindir running errands for Curudin around the house; the boy seemed like a dependable little one who was a great help to his father. Celebwen often worked in the library and he had chatted with her on not a few occasions. To see them in this corridor so late, however, was unusual. What were they doing up here? Elrohir leaned toward the sound of the conversation.

"Do not worry," said Celebwen, sounding a trifle impatient. "I shall be back in a moment. Just wait for me there."

The sound of material rustling signaled the departure of the woman, and there was silence for a moment. Lindir would have to walk past the Twins' hiding place to reach the place where he had been told to stay until her return, but for a whole minute there was no movement. Then Elladan began to make a sound like that of the wind, an eerie whistling noise that swooped around corners and across floors to its intended recipient. Elrohir could picture Lindir's face and the look of petrified horror which must have been on it. He elbowed Elladan hard in the ribs.

Ignoring the silent admonition, Elladan let the silence return for a moment or two and then repeated his ghastly call. This time the Twins could hear a stifled gasp from the other end of the hall. Elrohir decided this had gone far enough and stepped away from his brother, shaking off the other's efforts to keeping him in hiding. He strode quickly toward the terrified child.

Lindir stared at him, rooted to the spot, his small hand pressed against his mouth to keep himself from crying out. Elrohir knelt on one knee in front of him and placed both hands gently on his shoulders. "Everything is alright, little one," he said reassuringly. "There is nothing to fear."

The boy nodded and dropped his hand, but his eyes were still wide. The older elf took Lindir's hand and said, "Come with me. We will go wait for Celebwen."

The two set off down the corridor, Lindir clutching Elrohir's hand as tightly as he could. They walked slowly; the child was still frightened. As they passed the corner where Elladan stood quietly, the strange sound shrieked through the air again. Before you could say wind, Lindir had squeaked and wrapped his arms around Elrohir's leg, pressing his face into the older elf's clothes. "Elladan!" said Elrohir sharply.

The miscreant finally showed his unrepentant self, stepping out of the shadows and leaning against a closet door with a mischievous grin on his face. "Apologize to Lindir for frightening him," commanded his brother.

"Lindir is a brave little warrior," countered Elladan teasingly. "He does not need an apology from someone who frightened him, does he?"

"NOW!" thundered Elrohir, his hand resting protectively on Lindir's head. His patience had run out quickly this evening because of his long and frustrating day.

"Keep your head on, brother," said Elladan, unruffled by the outburst of temper. He bent his long figure in half and observed the trembling boy, who, still clinging to Elrohir's leg, had lifted his face to stare at Elladan. "Do not be afraid. Those sounds were made by me, not by some strange ghost. I am sorry if you thought they were something else."

Lindir drew a deep breath, making an effort to step away from Elrohir. "I did, but now that I know it was you I am not frightened," he said in a half-whisper. He was clearly still somewhat nervous.

Elladan patted him on the head and straightened up. "Good," he answered with a smile, and, turning, disappeared down the hallway into the shadows.

Elrohir took Lindir's hand again and squeezed it. "Let us go wait for your sister," he said. The boy looked up at him and nodded. The two proceeded down the corridor to the top of the stairs, where they stood silently, hand in hand. The darkness here was much less, being largely dispelled by lamps along the staircase. Lindir's fright soon disappeared.

Before long Celebwen, holding a large leather-bound book, emerged from a doorway a few feet from where they were standing. Seeing that her brother was not alone, she halted in surprise and looked from one elf to the other curiously. Elrohir bowed while she wondered what to say. Celebwen was not really uncomfortable talking with Elrohir, but his unexpected presence had caught her off guard.

"Celebwen, good evening," he said politely. "I found your brother in the hall and decided to wait with him so he would not have to face the darkness alone." The young lord smiled down at Lindir, who gazed up at him gratefully.

"Oh, that was most kind of you, Lord Elrohir, but there was no need for you to trouble yourself," she stammered, looking rather sternly at Lindir. Elrohir caught the glance.

"Ah, but there was," he answered, squeezing the child's hand again. "When I came upon him, he was the victim of one of my brother's jokes. I am afraid Elladan was hiding in the shadows making spooky noises on purpose to frighten Lindir."

Celebwen looked at Elrohir in amazement. "He was what?" she asked in surprise. "Oh. That is..." the woman trailed off, uncertain of how to react in front of the prankster's brother; both men were, after all, lords of the valley.

Elrohir smiled at her apologetically. "Do not worry, I shall take care of it." He pushed Lindir gently toward his sister and knelt in the boy's line of sight. "Fear no nightly noise, little one," he told him, a reassuring twinkle in his eye. "If it is not the wind, then it is my mischief-making brother seeking to tease elflings. You should not be afraid of either one." He ruffled Lindir's hair and stood, smiling once more at Celebwen. "I am sorry on my brother's behalf," he said.

She met his eye and Elrohir could tell that she was still annoyed that Elladan had targeted her brother. Sighing interiorly, he laid his hand over hers, the one supporting the book, and fixed her with his most meltingly convincing expression. "Please forgive his thoughtlessness," he said quietly. "I know he did not intend any real harm."

The woman blushed suddenly and stepped away from his hand. "Ah, I am sorry," she muttered. "Of course." Flustered, she took her brother's hand and started to leave. "Good night, Lord Elrohir." The two headed down the stairs, Celebwen leading the way.

Lindir glanced back at Elrohir and smiled. The tall elf waved his hand, calling, "Good night!"

As they disappeared around a bend in the staircase, Elrohir lowered the hand he had raised. And this time, his sigh was audible.


	7. Old Memories

Saelandil had parted ways with her guides at the doorway of Elrond's office.

"Just knock," Celebwen had told her. "I am sure that he is expecting you."

"Many thanks," Saelandil had responded. She glanced down at Lindir; the boy looked about as nervous as she was. Making an attempt to cheer him up, she gave him her most encouraging smile and patted him on the head. "Thank you for showing me around today. I had a wonderful time," she said, and was rewarded when he returned the smile. As the two turned away, she took a deep breath and knocked.

After a moment the door was opened by a tall elf with dark hair and a kind face. Remembering her manners, Saelandil dropped a quick curtsy before either spoke and the other stepped back, courteously indicating with his right hand that she should enter. "Please," he said, "come in. I am Elrond of Rivendell, and you are most welcome to the valley."

"My name is Saelandil," she answered, obediently following him into the room. He shut the door behind her as she took in her surroundings: the office was neatly organized with elegant bookcases and cabinets, while a fireplace provided light and heat. Numerous candles stood on the shelves farthest from the fire, illuminating the walls all the way around the room.

Elrond gestured to a group of three high-backed armchairs. "Have a seat, Saelandil," he said, and took one himself. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you," she said, sitting down in the chair next to his. Outside the window, behind closed drapes, howled the blizzard in all its fury, rattling the panes of glass but powerless to hurt the sheltered inhabitants of the Last Homely House. Inside the room, the fire crackled cheerfully and the candlelight flickered, giving off a warm glow that enveloped the occupants.

The door to an adjacent room opened suddenly and a woman with long golden hair entered carrying a streaming tray. "Good evening," she greeted, eyes smiling. She set down the tray on a table in the center of the group of chairs and Saelandil saw that it held a small pot of hot liquid. The visitor sniffed. The aroma wafting from the teapot was that of hot cocoa.

Elrond gazed lovingly at the newcomer. "This is my wife, Lady Celebrian," he explained. "My dear, this is Saelandil of Mirkwood."

The beautiful woman nodded politely to Saelandil and began to pour the beverage into sculpted mugs. "How has your stay in the valley been so far?" she asked, handing her one of the cups and another to Elrond.

"It has been quite pleasant," replied Saelandil, accepting the hot drink gratefully. "Everyone has been very kind to me, especially Curudin and his family."

"Ah yes," said Celebrian knowingly. "A wonderful family. We hear only good things about the parents, and Celebwen is one of the smartest women I know. Lindir, of course, is a dear little boy." She and Elrond exchanged a smile. "It gladdens my heart to see him running about the house helping his mother or father."

Saelandil sipped her chocolate. It was perfect, neither too hot nor too cool, and had a rich, smooth flavor; the drink began to warm her from the inside out.

"Where are you from?" asked Celebrian, taking the third cup of cocoa.

"Greenwood the Great," said Saelandil. "I am the eldest daughter of Maefaron, captain of the king's guard. Both my mother and my stepmother dwell in the Halls of Mandos, and my half-brother and half-sister have remained with my father."

"I am sorry for your losses," said Elrond, bowing his head. "Were you born in the Greenwood?"

Saelandil shook her head. "I was born in Valinor, just before the slaying of the Trees. My mother died in the crossing of the Grinding Ice, and it was long ages before my father loved another," she sighed. "My stepmother was of the sylvan race."

"I suspected that you were much older than anyone born in the third age of this world," murmured Elrond. He met her eyes, and each one recognized the other's years of experience. Although the Master of Rivendell could not remember the time before the sun and the moon, his memory could reach back to the days of the Sons of Feanor and the defeat of Morgoth. Saelandil had been an infant at the first moonrise, when Fingolfin set foot in Middle Earth and unfurled his banners.

"We travelled many leagues in the First Age, crossing Beleriand to Doriath and back again. Long we dwelt with Finrod in Nargothrond, but we had friends among the people of Turgon, and soon before he built the Hidden City we removed to live with them. After the destruction of Gondolin we came down to the sea with the other refugees, until the Sons of Feanor came... I can remember your birth, actually, yours and your brother's." She smiled at Elrond, who returned the smile. "When the Silmaril was lost, we went to Cirdan and stayed with him till after the coming of the Valar. My father loved Middle Earth too much to return to Valinor, so we began to travel eastward during the Second Age, finally arriving in the realm of the Greenwood. Thus we knew little of the Numenorians or of the changing of the land in their last cataclysm. The wood elves took us in, and in the forest we have dwelt ever since." Saelandil sighed interiorly, revisiting the long years of the past.

"If my husband is in your memory, you are in mine," said Celebrian suddenly. "My parents visited Oropher when I was a child, and I saw you in his house. I must have seen your father as well, but I do not know."

"Really? You might have seen my father with Thranduil... Before the prince became king Maefaron was his bodyguard." Saelandil replied, musing. "Yes, I think I do remember seeing you as an elfling. I can definitely remember your parents... Everyone knows of Celeborn and Galadriel."

"Did you know Glorfindel in Gondolin? Before his death?" asked Elrond curiously.

"Not intimately," said Saelandil. "I spoke with him a few times, but I doubt he remembers me. Of course I remember his valiant death. We could not have reached safety without him, and anyone who was present that day cannot forget his sacrifice."

There was a pause, then Elrond asked a question even more close to his heart. "If you remember my birth, do you remember my parents? I have few memories of them, the memories of a child. Did you know them at all?"

She could remember them clearly. "Yes," she said quietly. "I knew them. Elwing and I were very good friends. And I watched your father grow up, of course."

"What were they like?" he asked.

"Wise and kind," she answered. "Your mother was very organized and enjoyed books; your father loved the sea. She used to tease him about being messy with everything but his boots: he was always very careful to clean them and put away when he came into the house." Saelandil smiled, remembering. "Earendil would take her out every evening to watch the sunset over the water, except on cloudy days, of course."

She could tell that Elrond was storing up her every word in his mind, trying to piece together the scenes from his childhood memories. Celebrian was watching him closely.

Saelandil decided to ask some questions if her own. "I have always wondered what happened to you after your mother disappeared," she said. "I heard that the Sons of Fëanor raised you and Elros, but it was just a rumor, I thought. Perhaps you could let me know the truth of the matter?"

Elrond heaved a sigh of his own. "That is the truth," he told her. "And I will say that they truly did the best they could for us. We loved Maglor best, for he was the one to take us in after they destroyed our home, and he devoted himself to our care. Maedhros, although always kind, was frequently too occupied to take care of us. We knew what they had done to our people, yet as children we soon forgot. We always missed our mother, though."

"But when you were older?" asked Saelandil. "Surely you did not just let it go, what they had done..."

"Naturally we did not. My brother eventually found forgiving easier than I did, but by the time I left Himring I could no longer harbor ill will against either of them. I believe they felt compelled by their oath, and in any case neither one, especially at that point in their lives, had wanted to destroy the lives of any more Eldar."

Elrond was clearly glossing over many years and many interior struggles. As he was speaking he had looked away from Saelandil's eyes, focusing on a candle behind her; now he looked back and smiled rather sadly. "We parted from them as friends," he said, answering the question in her mind. Saelandil was taken rather aback; she had heard that Elrond was perceptive, but to be on the receiving end of his perception was startling. She took a sip of her chocolate, unsure how she should respond to the unfolding of his difficult early life.

"Why did you leave Greenwood?" Celebrian resumed the line of questioning she had begun earlier in the conversation.

"For various reasons. My father says that the forest is growing too dark and wished me and my siblings to leave before harm could come to us. Nevertheless, they would not leave their mother's home, and, more importantly, my father stayed as well... He bound himself to serve Thranduil many years ago after the king, then prince, saved his life in an accident. I was only waiting until my brother and sister reached their majority to depart." There had been other reasons for her desire to leave the forest, but she did not mention them now.

The Lady sighed. "Thranduil is my cousin, yet I rarely hear from him these days. How fares the woodland realm? Is the danger truly becoming that great?"

"I am afraid so," Saelandil replied. "The king has strengthened the patrols, for the spiders are more daring. And some Shadow has begun to stir in the south of the forest. There the trees grow sickly and the animals cannot bear to live in or around them."

Celebrian looked horrified; she was from Lothlorien, and could not bear to imagine trees withering and rotting away to that extent. Elrond appeared concerned, but his background was considerably different from that of his wife and such issues did not touch him as deeply. Celebrian began to exclaim about writing to Thranduil as soon as possible; Saelandil only heard her as a quiet voice in the back of her head. She was studying Master Elrond, trying to find in his face the child she had known ages ago.

She wondered, then, if Elrond could at all remember his childhood nurse.


	8. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Saelandil spoke with the Lord and the Lady of Imladris far into the night, exchanging memories of the past and plans for the future. They told her many things about the inner workings of the valley; they answered her questions and added helpful bits of advice to ease her path as she settled into her new home. Finally the fire was dying and she went down to her room, bidding her hosts good night. The howling of the wind had died down, although she could still hear it whistling outside the windows of the halls as she passed.

Elrond had said that her party had been found that day, sheltering in a cave with the baggage. They were staying there for now; one of the scouts was with them and the other two had ridden back. She was very glad to hear that her companions were safe. The news also meant that her belongings were not lost forever, as she had imagined. She could pick an apartment, Elrond told her, and move her things in as soon as they arrived.

She felt the chain she was wearing rub the back of her neck and she took out the key on the end of it, stopping under a lamp to look at the small object in its flickering light.

"It's a bit late to be awake," said a voice right behind her.

Saelandil jumped, caught completely off guard. Uttering an exclamation of surprise, she accidentally dropped the key and it bounced off into the shadows with a sharp clatter. That key was precious to her - it opened her little jewelry box with her mother's wedding ring inside - so she began hurriedly to search for it on the ground.

The man who had surprised her joined her on the ground, kneeling directly in front of her in such a way that she had to look at him. To her further astonishment, he looked exactly like Lord Elrohir, whom she and Lindir had seen earlier that day. She stared at him, wondering with which twin she was dealing.

He favored her with an utterly charming smile. Saelandil felt that last bit was a bit silly: his unapologetic apology seemed to indicate that he had intended to surprise her.

"A key, a small key."

"Ah! Let me help you. We shall find it sooner together." He turned and began to feel around in the shadows with his long fingers.

Not sure whether to be embarrassed, annoyed, or amused, she also began to hunt for her key, soon becoming frustrated by the fact that it was evading both of them. After a few minutes of silent searching, she became aware that the stranger was more intent on her than he was on the investigation. Fortunately the light was low and he could not see her blush at his attention. Well, she thought, let him stare, for I am just as curious about him. Spying could go two ways.

Suddenly, in the dark, their hands abruptly touched.

She breathed in sharply and retracted her fingers, but he reached out and caught them in his own. "My, your hand is frozen!" he exclaimed, rubbing it. "Look, I do not think we will find your key searching in the dark like this. Perhaps we should wait for the sun and then return to resume our hunt."

"Well..." He had caught her off guard again, holding on to her hand like that. "Or we could take down one of those lights and hold it close to the floor, so that we can see better."

He looked up at the lamp and then back at her, considering. "You know, that is an excellent idea. I did not even think of that."

Releasing her hand, he stood up and unhooked the light from its fixture on the wall. Then he brought it down again and the lamp shed soft illumination into the usually dark seams and cracks of the baseboards. Once more, the two covered the floor with no luck, and Saelandil felt suddenly ready to cry from the mixed emotions of the night, especially from frustration.

The stranger looked at her and saw the odd expression on her face. He put the lamp back and took both her hands this time, asking, "What is it?"

Something about his eyes made it impossible to avoid his intense gaze. "Oh, nothing," she began, "I just... Which twin are you?"

His face lit up and he laughed out loud. "Don't laugh at me, I just moved here!" she protested.

Regardless, he chuckled again and answered with a twinkle in his eye, "And what if I prefer not to tell you?"

She pulled her hands from his grasp and folded her arms across her chest, raising one eyebrow at him. "Oh alright," he grinned. "I suppose it is only fair, since I know your name. I am Elladan."

So this was Elladan, who preferred riding to reading, although he was as good at the latter as his scholarly brother. "How do you know my name?"

"I asked my father. Have you spoken with him yet? Elrohir and I believe that he knows everything. With a few exceptions, of course, like our current location. But aside from that, everything."

At least he seemed to respect his father. "I was just on my way back from visiting him," she answered. "I knew him when he was a child, although he does not remember me."

"Surprising that he does not remember you," said Elladan in a low voice. "You seem hard to forget to me..."

What a flirt! she thought, but she was rather pleased all the same. "I suppose you may add that to the list of things your all-knowing father does not know," she countered.

The twinkle returned and he laughed again. "That, dear lady, is a valid point."

Saelandil finally smiled as well. "I think you are right about the key," she said. "We probably will not find it tonight."

"I think so, and you should not trouble yourself about it at all. It is my fault, so I will be the one to come back and look for it," he promised. "But you must let me walk you to your rooms..."

"Oh, very well," she conceded. "You may accompany me."

Taking her hand one last time, he kissed it and tucked it under his arm. "This way?" he asked, pointing in the direction she had been facing when he startled her. She nodded and they set off down the corridor.

"Have you come to the valley to stay?" he asked her.

"If I like it," she hedged, not exactly sure. "Probably I shall stay. There is a much greater chance that I shall stay than that I shall return to the Greenwood."

"Greenwood? You sound as if you do not in the least want to return."

She sighed. "You are right, I do not."

"Why not?" he pressed, curious to hear the answer.

"Well, there are many reasons why I left, but one of them is an acquaintance of mine with whom I do not get along," she found herself admitting. She had not planned to reveal this to anyone. "He is arrogant and full of himself. Unfortunately, my father does get along with him very well, and his wife and I are good friends, so there was no escaping him short of moving."

"But he could not have been the main reason for so drastic a change..."

"Of course not! But distance from him was one of the good parts about leaving."

Elladan looked down at her mischievously. "And who is this arrogant acquaintance?" he asked, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth.

There she drew the line for this unexpected confidence. "That is none of your business."

"Oh come now, tell me. My curiosity is piqued to an exceedingly high level and you must satisfy me," he begged.

"On the contrary, I do not have to tell you anything!" she said firmly. "You should not be so nosy; we have only just met."

"Ah, but I intend for us to be friends from this moment forward," he informed her with a wink. "And I shall wrest your little secret from you. But you may yet give it to me willingly. I foresee the second scenario being more likely than the first..."

"Oh, do you? Well, we shall see about that. This particular secret shall stay hidden, especially since you have shown such an interest in uncovering it."

The smile was still dancing on his lips. "Does that mean that I may be more successful in searching out your other secrets?" he teased.

"No! Of course not!"

"How many secrets do you have, Saelandil? You are becoming a more intriguing person by the minute."

Somehow it was pleasant to hear him speak her name at last, as if this meant that they had known each other long enough for such familiarity to be a general rule between them. "And you are no ordinary person yourself, it would seem," she retorted. "I know few elves who make someone's acquaintance by startling them in the dark."

"No ordinary person? You flatter me. But I wager you say that to all the lords who come asking after your hand."

"Elladan!"

He went on, totally unabashed. "Speaking of your hand, is it warmer now? The one pressed against my ribs, that is. The other one seems rather left out in the cold."

They had reached her door and in the light he could see her blush this time. "Good night, Elladan," she said, removing said hand from beneath his arm. "It was... interesting to meet you." She had quite forgotten about the key.

He laughed again. "Likewise, Lady Saelandil. I shall do my best to find your key and, if not, to make amends to the best of my abilities."

Saelandil smiled at him. "Thank you," she answered, and closed the door between them, wondering at the unusually warm feeling in her chest.

Outside in the hall, Elladan took the lost key out of his pocket, tossed it up in the air, and caught it easily. Then he sauntered back down the hall in the direction of his apartments.


	9. Another Lord, Another Lady

**Sorry about the weirdness that was going on in the middle. Still not sure how that happened. Hopefully everything is fixed now...**

The next day dawned as bright as the last one had, and Saelandil hoped that it would not turn stormy again. The rest of her traveling party was still trapped out there in the snow, as well as her luggage. If the weather remained clear they would likely be able to reach the valley today, which meant that she could move into her new apartments with all her things. She was looking forward to settling into her own place.

Despite her late bedtime, Saelandil awoke with the sun and watched it climb over the edge of the valley and peer down through the pine forests to the Last Homely House. Snow sparked over everything, as it had the morning before. She could see Rivendell from her window as she had never seen it; she had been occupied yesterday and had somehow never looked outside. As she did so now, she realized just how beautiful her new home was.

After she had gotten ready for the day, someone knocked on her door. It was Celebwen, with a tray of hot breakfast. "Good morning! My mother sent me down with this for you."

Saelandil gratefully accepted the tray; she had in fact been wondering a moment before when and where she could get breakfast. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed. "Please relay my thanks to your mother as well. This is wonderful."

The other woman smiled. "No thanks are necessary. And by the way, lunch in the great hall is at noon. Did Lindir show you where that is?"

She thought back to the previous day. "Yes, he did. Thank you for telling me!"

"You are welcome," said Celebwen.

She was about to leave, so Saelandil seized her chance. "Celebwen... Are you busy this afternoon? It's just that I was going to look at the apartment options Lord Elrond gave me last night, and I wondered if someone might come with me."

Celebwen looked surprised, but she considered for a moment. "Well, I have things to do in the morning, but yes, I am free after lunch. I can certainly accompany you if you wish..."

"That would be wonderful," said Saelandil, a bit relieved. "Can we meet after lunch back here?"

"That would be fine. I will see you then!"

"Thank you! said Saelandil one more time before she shut the door.

At a quarter to one, she left her room to try and find the dining hall for the noonday meal. Here would be a test to see if she could remember things as well as she thought she could; looking through halls with Lindir was one thing, but now she had to navigate by herself.

She knew she should take the right-hand corridor and continue straight until she reached the long stairs. Then she had to descend one floor and turn left into the series of hallways, again keeping a straight course. After that she knew she could recognize the door to the hall when she saw it. She set out confidently, wondering if she would see either of the cooks she had met the day before.

But on the landing right before the staircase stood an unexpected obstacle. The episode of the lamp and the key suddenly returned to her in a rush as she watched Elladan take a small object out of his pocket.

"Is this yours, Saelandil?" he asked cheerfully, holding the key before her eyes.

"Yes it is! And you found it!"

The young lord grinned. "Yes, yes I did," he answered. "Now what will you give me in return for this treasure of yours?"

"Elladan! I do not have to give you anything!" she protested. "It was because of your mischief that I dropped it in the first place, so I think that we are even."

"Oh but I think that you do owe me some token. I was up quite early this morning searching. Hmm, let me think of a suitable exchange..."

"Oh come on, give it to me."

Pretending not to hear her, he held the key behind his back. "Let us see. Your prized possession for..."

Stepping close to him, she reached for the small object clutched in the palm of his hand, but he moved it away just out of her reach.

"For... A kiss!" he decided, coming to this conclusion rather triumphantly and smiling down at her. He bent slightly so that his face was close to hers and pointed to his mouth. "Give me a kiss and I shall restore your key to you."

She slapped him hard. "I think not, young sir," she said coolly.

He pulled back, hand on his smarting cheek. "Alright! Alright! Not on the lips, then." The mischief sparkled in his eyes again. Turning his face so that the red skin her hand had touched was facing her, he bent once more. "I suppose it is fitting that you kiss the place you hurt me, anyway."

"No."

"No kiss, no key..."

"Oh, fine! You wicked thing..." Looking around to make sure no one could see them, Saelandil stood on her toes and kissed him quickly on the cheek. Grinning with satisfaction, he held out her key again.

She took it carefully out of his hand.

"Are you going to lunch right now?" he asked, having finally surrendered the little treasure.

"Actually I am. Are you?"

"Well, yes. May I come with you?" He bowed low.

Saelandil laughed at his dramatic gesture. "Of course! I would be glad of the company: I know few people here."

"And meals are better enjoyed with someone else, as everyone knows..."

"You are quite right, unless you are including breakfasts eaten when one is too sleepy to hold any form of intelligible conversation," she countered.

"Oh, naturally. I for one am a positive grizzly bear in the morning, especially if I have been up too far into the night," he laughed in his turn. "I pity the person who tries to converse with me when I am in that state."

"You and I would make a good pair in the mornings, then, for I am much the same. Until at least 10:00 I cannot think properly."

"Is that so? Are you saying that if someone wants to get you to agree with something you ordinarily would deny he has only to ask you before your cognitive functions have begun to operate properly?"

She was, as usual, caught unawares by his teasing. "Do not even think about trying something like that!" she told him indignantly. He only chuckled in answer.

"Have you ever eaten here before?" asked Elladan as they entered the busy hall.

Nodding, she began to head for the end of the line. "Yesterday, while Lindir was showing me around, we stopped for lunch."

"Well, you are not with Lindir now." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction. "Come with me!"

"What..." She was being dragged! "Oi! Let go of me!"

He stopped suddenly so that she would run into him, which, of course, she did. "I should not have held your wrist. I beg your pardon," he grinned, bowing and taking her hand instead. Then he continued in the same direction at a similarly fast pace.

Saelandil struggled to keep up, blushing as the two passed through the crowd of people hand in hand. The situation was ridiculous: a man she barely knew was pulling her around as if they had been acquainted for years... And he was one of the Sons of Elrond!

They arrived at a table in a quiet corner of the dining hall and Elladan took a seat, pointing to the chair across the round surface from him. "Sit down!" he laughed at her astonished expression. "Yes, I have a reserved table here. The cooks refuse to let anyone in my father's family go through the line whenever we come here and insist on serving us themselves."

"Well, you must feel special," she answered, sitting as well. "Will they know you have come?"

"Oh yes. When we came in they would have had someone standing watch who noticed me."

"Do you like being waited on hand and foot?"

He caught the disapproving tone and hastened to answer, not realizing that she spoke in jest. "We are hardly waited on 'hand and foot'! My valet is constantly berating me for not giving him enough to do, and Elrohir's valet is more like a secretary. This meal thing is rather irritating sometimes, if you must know..."

"I never said anything about your brother; there is no need to drag him into it..."

"Well I just... I guess I always speak like that, in the plural. Most people refer to us together anyway, so I'm used to that..." He was now completely flustered. The tables had suddenly reversed and color had sprung into his cheeks.

"Elladan!" Saelandil was laughing at him now. "I was teasing you. Calm down."

He still looked embarrassed, but he raised an interested eyebrow. "You are being rather forward with me, my lady," he winked at her.

"What? You are not the one to speak to me of being forward, especially after dragging me through everyone holding my hand when we have only just met!"

"Oh please. You and I go way back. At least twelve hours. Or is it eleven? My goodness, you were out late..."

"And what about you? I would have gone to bed at least half an hour earlier if someone had not made me drop my key..."

Just then Mir-los appeared beside the table. "My lord Elladan, how may I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

"Two large servings, please, one for me and one for Lady Saelandil." Mischief danced in his eyes. "And a bottle of red wine, if you have any on hand..."

"I am sure something can be found," Mir-los answered, smiling at Saelandil. "It is good to see you settling in so quickly."

Saelandil's mouth dropped open, but before she could respond the other woman was walking away. She was pretty sure that the cook had just suggested that she and Elladan were already a couple; her cheeks grew very hot and she turned on the lord in question.

"This is becoming awkward," she mumbled. "What will people think, seeing us together like this?"

He only laughed at her. "Things are only awkward if you make them awkward. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"It's not that I am necessarily ashamed, just that often many have a way of putting two and two together to come up with five. And who told you to imply that I eat a lot? You don't even know anything about my eating habits."

Ignoring the last bit, Elladan focused on her first statement. "What do you mean? What two and two?"

"Never mind. Never mind."

They sat in silence then, neither one able to think of anything to say. Had not a woman whom Saelandil had never seen before suddenly taken a seat next to Elladan, the silence might have continued for quite some time without being broken.

"Elladan! How fare you?" the newcomer asked smilingly, wrapping her arm around his waist and looking up at him.

He likewise out his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kids against her cheek. "I am faring quite well, my dear; how are you this day?"

Saelandil was struck by the grace and beauty of the stranger: her clear skin glowed with health and her face was perfectly proportioned. The sparkle of laughter in her grey eyes seemed to be a permanent feature of her countenance. And just for a moment, the elf from Greenwood felt a stab of jealousy at the other woman's proximity to the son of Elrond.

"Oh, never better. Do you know, I am rather enjoying this weather-forced imprisonment!"

Elladan laughed suddenly, squeezing her shoulder. "My irrepressible darling, never change. Arwen, this is my new friend, Saelandil of the Greenwood. Saelandil, my younger sister Arwen."

The jealousy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. So this was the famed beauty, the daughter of Elrond...

"Welcome to Imladris, Saelandil!" said Arwen with another cheerful smile. The maiden sat up and leaned towards Saelandil. "My father mentioned that you had come to stay here. And," she looked back at Elladan, "if you are already acquainted with my brother it looks as though we shall be friends!"

Her buoyancy was contagious and Saelandil found herself easily returning the smile. "I would like that, Lady Arwen. But I have not yet decided if your brother and I shall continue our acquaintance..."

Elladan raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. "Oh really? Is that anyway to treat the one who saved you from standing in line for dinner? Thranduil's folk must have an interesting idea of gratitude."

Saelandil sighed and fixed him with a look. "I am not exactly one of Thranduil's folk: I am not sylvan. I have merely resided in his realm for some time."

Mir-los returned with the wine and two glasses. "Oh, my lady!" she exclaimed, surprised. "Shall I bring you dinner as well?"

"Yes please," replied Arwen.

"And another glass," added Elladan.

Arwen observed the bottle as the cook went to fetch the desired items. "Are you drinking already, my brother? Has the morning been that stressful?"

"Never you mind," was the response. "I shall drink at dinnertime if I please." He filled one of the glasses halfway and set it before Saelandil.

"Thank you." She took the intricate stem between her fingers, lifting the rim to her lips.

"So arrogant," whispered his sister behind her hand to Saelandil.

"No, I am very humble," he countered, winking and handing her the other glass.

In response, Arwen's eyes danced merrily as she looked at him from behind her drink. "Your humility, I suppose, manifests itself in different ways from other people's?"

He nodded. "Exactly."


End file.
